


Nibelheim's Curse

by CordeliaGainsborough (sblythe)



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Angst, Dreams, F/M, Love, M/M, Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-16
Updated: 2015-07-16
Packaged: 2018-04-09 16:16:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4355852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sblythe/pseuds/CordeliaGainsborough
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Cloud and Vincent find a dream in the darkness, do they send it out into the universe, or do they keep it tight within their breast? Or do they dream a dark dream that should never see the light of day? Horror, angst, and the Final Ancient.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nibelheim's Curse

A story of sadness, loss, and Horror,  
by Cordelia Gainsborough

Cloud was sad. Aeris was dead and she wasn't coming back. His thin fingers reached up and gently brushed the tears from his cheeks. They tasted like salt and sorrow and a sword through the pelvis. They were the sweet tangy mint of regret. He had never gotten to tell her how he truly felt, never cupped her chin in his delicate palm or laughed with her on a summer's morning. He had never gotten to try anal. He recalled in an instant her iridescent emerald eyes with that hint of azure that sparkled like the mystery that was her beautiful enigmatic soul. Another tear came unbidden, welling up and spilling down his alabaster cheek, so smooth and ivory-white that it did not even redden in the slightest when he wept.

Vincent sat on the bed beside, him, his incandescent chest opearlescent in the moonlit night. Ordinarily he was a rather cold sort, prone to fits of depression and black eyeliner and bitter tears drunk from a chalice made of pineapple tins. Something about Cloud made him feel different, though. Perhaps it was the ex-SOLDIER's eyes, the glowing cerulean of a flashlight dropped in a toilet bowl. Maybe it was his heart, so painfully raw that everyone could see its wounded surface. Or it might have been his enormous horse-cock, swinging freely just above his ankles. Whatever the cause, it had gotten inside Vincent's inner workings and was wearing away at his gothic gears, changing him into something Other. He had never again wanted a soul, but Cloud was forming one inside him, like a grain of sand encased by a bubble of creamy white jism. His own spunk pearl, precious as diamonds or rubies.

Vincent's own loins stirred, twitching under his cloak, which was made of pure darkness, and sewn with a lining made of a child's broken dreams. He felt his hunger writhe in his chest like maggots, eating his heart. It felt so good. So raw. Like fine veal gone rotten, and stunk of sweet putrefaction. Yes, just like that.

Vincent's thoughts turned to his Ebony Princess, and wondered if he would mind what Vincent's lusty urges called him to do. That Ebony Princess, lady of the jungle, whose arms were strong an an ox. Whose only remaining hand would hold Vincent tightly as Vincent deluged him in his viscous Jenova-enhanced lovejuice. That... that Ebony Princess. Barret Wallace, queen of Vincent's black heart. Vincent remembered that one promise he'd made before he left to find Cloud: He promised Princess Barret that he would return with a beautiful gown for him. Barret loved to dress up beautifully in the most gorgeous resplendent finery that Vincent could find on The Planet, with beautiful lace and elegant silk adorning his lithe dark body. To Vincent he looked so much like an ornate wedding cake, pure white icing and dark black chocolate and mocha. A dark wedding cake indeed.

That was what he loved most truly about Barret. Yes, the way Barret's outward form mirrored so perfectly the obsidian darkness of Vincent's destroyed heart.

But now Vincent was alone. Alone with Cloud. Two lonesome loners, alone. Lonely, even together they were apart, aside. Like the beach and the churning tide. Would Vincent wash over the sandy-haired Cloud, roughly and deeply?

Even as he thought that, he heard a piercing scream tear through the air inside the Shinra Mansion. It was not the first the old manor had heard. For a moment Vincent wondered if it were only old memories, coming back to haunt him like a cumstain on a darke velvet cape. He hadn't heard such a shriek since he made his Ebony Love fist himself with his gun-arm. He knew he never could love Barret, but oh, the things that boy could do with a detachable arm and a melange of exciting attachments. So unlike Hojo, that mincing beast of a man. Barret gave, and gave, and gave, until he had no more of his 76 inches to give. Hojo had only taken, and the mansion remembered. Its bones, the foundations, had been soaked in the blood of Hojo's hapless victims.

Blood and semen.

Did Cloud too?

Eyes, watching him accusingly through the glass of the tank as Hojo shoved the beaker into his most sacred areas. Vincent had buried the memory so deep it was almost a dream, and yet ...

The scream pierced the air again. Pierced, like Vincent's heart.

Cloud stood up alarmed, his huge member fully unfurling with a meaty thud. It rolled across the ground and coiled around his ankles. Vincent wondered how Cloud could stand having such a sensitive organ scrape across the wooden floorboards. What had Hojo _done_ to him...?

In that way, he and Cloud were kindred. But did Cloud feel the same?

Cloud was quickly gathering up his huge cock and bunching it into his SOLDIER uniform.

"Vincent! Did you hear that? Someone might be in danger."

Vincent stood up, moving with the speed of the vampyr. He was in front of Cloud in a flash, and not even Cloud's instincts, honed over many battles, bent over many beds, could react before Vincent's nacreous necrotinous digit was pressed to his thin, perfect lips.

"The only danger here, Cloud," said Vincent, dreamily, "is the danger of loving you."

Cloud's eyes widened in shock. What was Vincent saying? What would Aeris do in this situation? _Help me, my sweet_ , Cloud prayed.

The shriek came again, but not as loudly. Either the person screaming was being rent asunder and had so few HP left that he or indeed she could not muster the energy left to shout, or they were just becoming bored of it now. Cloud didn't wait to find out. He brushed Vincent aside and continued zipping his uniform up, coming dangerously close to cleaving off a nipple in the zipper. But Cloud was an expert. He pulled the zip at the very last moment and it leapt over his tiny pert pink perfect pin-sized nip. In his head he began his victory pose, the fanfare playing loudly. He leapt over the threshold, the taut muscles of his ass bunching underneath the blue fabric like huddled, frightened rabbits. He had no time for victory poses. Not yet...

"Cloud, wait! You don't know what's down there! Why are you throwing your safety away when you could find out what's down _here?"_ Vincent stomped a booted foot in frustration, reaching after his blonde butterfly. It was no use. He would have to pursue him with the all-encompassing fishnet of his newfound love. Down ... to the basement. The basement of anal rents. The baseboard of his fear.

\---

Cloud was running, meat mallet swinging against his leg with every stride. He told himself he was going to save the shrieker in the basement, but it felt more like he was running ... away. Away from what, exactly? The image of his darling Aeris, skewed upon Sephiroth's blade like a hunk of revolving meat in a kebab shop, glistening with congealed grease and bacteria? Or was it Vincent's love he fled in dread - the love below with the mako glow, barely concealed beneath tight leather trousers?

These thoughts were suddenly wiped from his mind as he rounded a corner and came upon a terrible sight.

Ying-Yangs were one of Hojo's forgotten experiments, left to prowl the dark corners of the basement along with a myriad of other monstrosities when Shinra pulled out many years before. They had two heads, two personalities, and two monstrous cocks, slimy and prehensile like a giraffe's tongue. Most of the time they were content to merely rape each other. But not today. Today they had fresh meat. A young woman, fair of face and large of tit. Her eyes were a glittering, shimmering, restless, amythest violet. Her hair was pure white, tied back in a langorous braid. She looked so much like Cloud's lost love he almost shouted her name. He stopped himself just in time, realizing his mistake. She looked like Aeris, true, but there was something ... better about her. Something purer. Something vastly more wise and attractive and fuckable.

The girl, struggling against the curling claws of her attackers, looked up. She met Cloud's eyes with her own, pierced him through with her gaze. A voice spoke in his head.

_"Save me, Cloud Strife! I am Cordelia Gainsborough, the Final Ancient!"_

Cloud charged without hesitation, realising only when it was too late that he was weaponless, as defenseless as the girl in front of him. The beautiful, elegant girl _,_ exposed jugs juddering like a cow's udder, and just as gravid. A shocking revelation came to him.

"Even without my Buster Sword, I still have an Ultima Weapon!"

In seconds his many zippers were undone, and with a flick of his wrist he tossed the vast length of his massive flaccid member across the ground.

"Say my name, bitch," he shouted. "Hurry!"

"C-Cloud!" she stammered, "Cloud Strife!"

"Tell me," he said, licking his lips, "tell me I've got a big dick."

"Boy that's a big dick," she replied, voice quaking with terror.

And immediately it sprung into life, blood unfolding into the slumbering beast until it was as solid as a jewel-encrusted sword. It glowed pure white, and on the tip formed a perfect bead of precum, pure as Aeris's own Holy materia.

Cloud took this Ultima Weapon in his hands and dashed for the nearest Ying-Yang. He ducked one blow, swung to the side, catching his weight on one foot and using his momentum to turn and swing the turgid WEAPON-killer square into a Ying. It turned to dust immediately.

"Say it again! Quickly! I-I'm losing it!"

"Mmm that's a big dick!" Cordelia cried, with feeling, no longer afraid.

"Kyah," shouted Cloud, swinging wildly, yet oh-so-deftly, and he destroyed them was an erotic balletic display of fury, righteous anger, and a dance of lust. As he fought, darting back and forward, he would see the girl in the corner of his eye, in the window of his soul, staring through it and into his darkened depths. Like she was looking through the window of an abandoned building, upon the furnishings of his heart, coated in dust and dirt. She had only known him seconds, but with her Cetra power, she knew his heart entirely.

"Kyah," he said again, finishing the last Ying-Yang pairing. He panted, and turned to the girl. He doubled over with the sheer exertion.

"You saved me," she said, beaming.

"Yes," he replied. "Now suck it, you ungrateful bitch."

All his feelings for Aeris came welling up, spilling from him in ropes of precum. Precum came, coursing across his glans, his glands producing it with gay abandon.

"Suck it Aeris," he continued.

"B-but I'm not--"

He slammed the meatstick across her jaw, sending her to the floor. So intent was he on slapping her spampurse he never noticed Vincent rounding the foot of the stairwell, silent as a fart on dark cotton sheets.

"Kuraudo," he began, his Japanese accent betraying his arousal, "what do you THINK you are doing?"

"I'm making love, Vincent!" Cloud replied, sharply. "Something you know nothing about, _vampyr_."

Vincent recoiled in horror at his true name. His skin sparkled in the darkness like a man bukakked by the purest angels, and his tiara tipped from his brow, shattering upon the ground below. The crystals and pearls and silver tinkled across the floor, echoing forever in Vincent's ears, and in his dead heart.

The noise brought him back to a world without complications. That time when he and Barret had been trapped in an elevator. The tinkling noise of the broken tiara was almost exactly like the metallic tinkling of Vincent's metal claw as it masturbated Barret's three-inch chode, urging the hulking man ever closer to the grandest heights of elysium. Why he had screamed "WHAT ABOUT MARLENE?!" at the peak of his man-joy, Vincent was never sure, but later, when Barret's large waxy lips brushed gently against Vincent's ear, he whispered words immortal:

"There ain't go gettin' offa this train we on."

"Yes, my dear Barret," he whispered in return. "There is no getting off of this man-train we're on."

And then Barret loved him as only a 300-lb black man could love a dark child of the night, by splitting his anus open like a ripe tomato in the July sun. Oh! Such memories! Glistening sweat and the smell of his voodoo queen and the elevator creaking under their love-weight so loudly he thought the cables would surely break, plummeting them into the dark shaft even as his own shit-shaft was shafted by 83 inches of black gold. Barret had always harboured a taste for the theatric underneath his rough-hewn exterior; dipping his cock in molten gold had been the least flamboyant display Vincent had witnessed.

"Hot as any hottentot," smirked Vincent, looking up from the shattered crown, "and not the goods for me."

Cloud swung wildly at Vincent, arms flailing, huge penis rapidly deflating as sexual arousal quickly became the arousal of rage. Cordelia squealed and bounced from foot to foot, funbags shifting and shuddering like an active faultline. Cloud's penis slapped to the floor and dragged between his legs as he squatted in his hand-to-hand stance.

"Cloud, be careful!" Cordelia cried. Then a hellbeast ate her.

All that was left were her ample bosoms, which hit the floor with a gelatinous clap, like someone spanking a blancmange.

"Nooooooooo!" screamed Cloud, into the darkness of the Winter night.

\---

The wind howled, coiling around the Shinra Mansion in heavy waves. The snow lashed against the ancient panes. It was a Winter night like no other.

Vincent knelt, and put his arm around Cloud. Cloud's eyes were glazed and stared into the depths of space, unseeing. Grief had stolen his soul. In his arms he clutched the only remains of Cordelia Gainsborough, the final ancient and Cloud's truest love.

"Can you hear me, Cloud? I hope that you can understand me. For you see, my dear, this is the 25th of December, which holds a special significance. Cloud? You must try to understand me?"

Vincent gave Cloud a few gentle, effete slaps and continued.

"It was on this day that Jenova was born. Hojo named this day 'Christmas', after the birth of Jenova. Cloud... the Hellbeast that arose and fled with the power of the Cetra dripping from its maw was none other than a reincarnation of Jenova."

Cloud turned, eyes still wide and unfocussed. His mouth moved silently, lips barely touching, as if he was attempting to form some sentence.

"Cloud! Say something! Anything! Cloud!"

Cloud started making audible noises.

"Just take it slow, my lover. So slow. Like our lovemaking soon will be."

Cloud stopped, and took a breath, and said:

~for a, yours~

"C-Cloud?!" Vincent's eyes were wide.

~true a love~ Cloud replied.

Vincent frowned. Something was wrong. Very, very wrong.

~angels cry for your crucified tonight~

Vincent turned from the prone figure. If he felt anything, his expression did not show it. However, a single tear glimmered on his cheek.

**THE END**


End file.
